RangerWickett
Legend
The lion's share of the credit for the giant riders of the apocalypse is owed to Cartoon Network and Brendon Small.
ZEITGEIST Tizbiz Zeitgeist Campaign
- Thread starter Tizbiz
- Start date
Session 65
A battle of wits
Without making any further sound, Gabriel ambushes Komanov from the ice ridge and attacks her fiercely with his Kukris. Meanwhile, Auryn turns his attention to the giant warlord so that he cannot intervene for his mistress at the last second. While it engages with her, trying to defend against her nimble strikes, the giant utters a low call and something deep inside the ice responds with a loud cracking sound.
Komanov clenches her teeth in pain and stumbles, trying to call forth divine energy, but the worm inside the ice reacts first. With a burst of frost and shattering ice shards, it lunges outward in defense of its ancient master and Komanov. The maw of the creature clamps down on Gabriel’s shoulder, piercing his shoulder, dragging him sideways across the ice. Fortunately, the worm's bite loosens long enough for Gabriel to return to Komanov and strike her before she is able to unleash her terrible magic.
Already weakened, the priestess reaches for a potion offered by her acolyte, but Gabriel is faster. With a slash of force energy, the vial shatters in her hands, and the liquid splatters to the ground. Komanov stares in disbelief at such a quick strike, then collapses in a heap.
Behind them, the undead warlord roars, swinging a twisted morning star. Auryn ducks beneath the swings, parries a few others, and retaliates with precise rapier strikes. It doesn't take her too long to fell the giant, who collapses in with a shuddering groan.
The worm fares little better. Now exposed, wounded, and leaderless, it becomes prey. Auryn and Gabriel dispatch it swiftly, leaving its shattered remains twitching on the frozen ground. They also make sure that the tongueless servant of Komanov finds his way to the Absurdist Web.
We agree to next take Komanov's weapon, in which we suspect the Eye of the Voice of Rot is located, to safety. So we teleport the wicked object to Slate and hand it over to the capable hands of Harkover Lee, whom we instruct to treat the thing with the necessary caution and take it apart. We also take care of the dead giant, freeing him from all necromantic influences. After that, we return to Heid to discuss the army still besieging the city.
Back in Bhad Rhyzhavdut, we meet again with Philosopher Heid, whose eyes are shadowed but unbroken. The siege continues, though the army of the end has grown more confused in the absence of its prophet. Together with the philosopher, we agree that it is probably best to dismantle Komanov’s cult not with blades, but with words.
“She cannot be allowed to become a martyr,” Auryn explains. “We don’t just defeat her - we unmask her, strip her of every ounce of false glory right before the very people she sought to mislead.”
“The faithful must watch her doctrine fail, publicly,” Gabriel adds. “They must see that she was not a prophet of the End. Just a woman with too much power and ambition. And with one terrible Titan master.”
Heid, ever the stoic philosopher, nods after a moment of reflection.
“Then we shall debate.”
So we agree that for this, it is probably best to place Komanov in an anti-magic field, so that she cannot use any dirty tricks or run away by magical means, and then dismantle her philosophy in a debate. We ask Heid to take a prominent role in this, as the people of Drakr consider him a philosophical luminary, and we agree to support him with arguments.
So we publicly declare that we will challenge Grandis Komanov in a traditional Drakran philosophical debate to gain the attention of both the public and the army of the end. One by one, Soldiers, citizens, cultists, and philosophers alike gather in uneasy silence. Komanov, now being healed up enough to debate, bound in enchanted manacles, is placed within a circular anti-magic field, a soft blue aura humming around her like the eye of a storm. Her face is gaunt, but her gaze remains burning, unrepentant and unwavering. We tell her that we have come to challenge her in front of her people, and it appears as though she is... almost happy to enter the debate. Komanov then explains her philosophy of the end:
“I do not fear judgment, for I have seen what waits beyond the veil,” she says, her voice clear, carried by sheer force of belief.
“The world is ending. Not metaphorically. Not eventually. Now. And because of that truth, nothing you do matters anymore. There are no consequences for your actions anymore. So why pretend otherwise? Why not embrace it? If our stories end, let them end gloriously. According to our own will”
Secondly, she states, history and traditions are shaped by personal experiences, so everyone should fulfill their own great destiny.
"And the corrupt - those in power who never feared consequences - feared me. And rightly so. Because I gave the people the freedom to form their own end. It is them who should .be brought down, as they only chain us to mediocrity."
She then gestures towards her army:
“And them? They were farmers, fishermen, widows. Broken people. Now they are warriors.People who can acieve greatness and form a fine end for their own story. Just like in the stories of old."
Komanov then points first at Vlendam Heid and then at us.
"You, Heid, you hide behind questions, fencing with elaborate words and thoughts. Lulling the people just like those weak politicians. And you, Risuri, hide behind your order and righteousness. You think those values will save you? You are merely delaying the inevitable while giving people false hope. I am no villain. I am the ice that clears the murky waters. And you are the damp ash of an age already dead.”
Auryn responds in return, calm but fierce.
“I know you’ve seen the end... but you misunderstood its ontext. You say nothing matters. We say everything does. The world isn’t dying because it is time- it’s dying because someone tried to rewrite its laws. That was the Obscurati’s doing, and we are undoing their damage. We’ve seen the cracks, we've learned their ritual and we know how to undo it. Our world has a future”
She takes a step forward.
“You chose to give up. We choose to fight.”
Then Gabriel raises his voice next, steady, but almost gentle.
“You speak of great destinies as though they belong to all - but most of your so-called heroes were, as you just elaborated, once people with quiet, honest lives. Fishermen who fed their neighbors. Farmers who braved the elements to keep others alive.
There is nobility in the simple. The quiet. Not everyone needs glory to find meaning.”
(ah yes, the perfect argument for a former butler)
A murmur ripples through the crowd.
“You mock weakness, Komanov. But we call it humanity. And those with true strength, those with power, should not rule through fear. The best leaders are those who listen. Those who lift. Heid never ordered armies. He inspired thought. That is what power should do. Not commanding armies, pushing their people towards death, making their lives a living nightmare”
Auryn then brings forth the next counter-argument:
“Yes, there are corrupt politicians. Yes, Drakr’s leadership failed its people. But for every corrupt leader, there's at least one who is honest and sincere. Some of them stood against the tide, like Heid, who stayed in Bhad Rhyzhavdut, or King Gabriel of Risur, a supposed enemy, who came to Drakr's aid despite your nation's pact with the Obscurati. They subjugated Drakr to the Obs, ignoring the will of the people, just for the sake of securing their power, yes. But philosophers like Heid have always used their power to guide with wisdom, and he opposes the Obs."
She also explains that there is nothing wrong with admitting one's weaknesses and growing from them, as not everyone in the world has to be a warrior, just like King Gabriel already said. A wise leader, she explains, takes the weak into consideration and gives them a voice instead of oppressing them.
Gabriel then picks up the train of thought to finish our argument:
„We came here, knowing that we'd most likely face adversity. We risked our lives not for glory, not for conquest, but to protect the people of Drakr, a country whose leaders would probably rather see us dead, from your 'End of the world'. That is not cowardice. That is conviction. "
Komanov laughs bitterly in disbelief.
“You think they’ll believe you over me?”
But the crowd is already shifting. A few of her followers are whispering, while some look uncertain.
“I gave them strength... the strength to choose their own end”, she hisses.
Auryn meets her gaze, slowly shaking her head.
“No. You gave them permission to despair. You wrapped oblivion in philosophy and sold it as salvation.”
It seems that our arguments are winning out over those of Komanov, as one by one the army of the end lay down their weapons. And with their conviction gone, the blizzard, and the hivemind are gradually dissipating. Then something strange happens.
The energy starts flowing southward, a current of invisible thought trailing through the dimly lit sky.
Hours pass. The city's defenses are rebuilt in places. Meanwhile, Asrabey leads sweeps through the frozen wastelands with local troops, chasing down loyalists and routing the last of the Vsadni, the undead horsemen. With Komanov captured, and her philosophy dismantled, the morale of her followers has collapsed.
(no dwarven implosion here since Komanov was pretty much shackled and shielded from magic.)
Then, a sudden pulse of arcane energy flickers as a small contingent of well-armed, well-uniformed Drakran soldiers teleport to out site. They bear the crest not of warlords, but of the official government of Drakr. Their commander delivers a simple message: “The Vice-Chancellor of Drakr wishes to meet with you. Your presence is requested in Trekholm.”
We exchange nods with Heid, who seems both curious and wary. Without hesitation, we agree to take the philosopher with us and teleport to Trekholm. There, we learn that the vice-chancellor has apparently distanced himself from the Obs.
"We underestimated the influence Grandis Komanov and her cult had. We did nothing, our eyes clouded, and our so-presumed 'allies' uninterested in the pleas of the north,” he admits, plainly. “But you, who were supposed to be our enemies, listened. You came. You helped our people to get rid of the icy scourge of the end. And for that, Drakr owes you more than words.”
He also commends Heid for his unwavering voice during dark times.and instead thanks Risur and Heid for their courageous intervention in the north.
King Gabriel then steps forth to make an announcement of his own:
“Then today indeed marks the end of the old world. Not through destruction, as Grandis Komanov believed, but through unity. The cold war between Drakr and Risur is over at last.“
He then glances at Auryn and nods in affirmation
„And this end, this change is not a threat. It is a glimmer of hope for a broken world.”
As if to underscore the shift, an arriving Danoran military train carrying soldiers is sent back to Danor. Though the Danorans make no protest, their silence feels intentional as if at least some of them are grateful to not be caught up in the conflict.
Unfortunately, his good mood is immediately dampened when Gabriel receives a sending from Harkover Lee. With a fair amount of shock on his face he turns to Auryn and the rest of the crew.
„I'm sorry... I know this should be a moment of rejoice... but I just got terrible news. Herkover Lee just told me that Lord Price-Hill has been found dead on his estate.“
(If you know our party, then you'd maybe already guessed that we formed our own counter-arguments against Komanov. And yep, this kind of “philosophical encounter” is what makes this adventure path so interesting. As for the philosopher of the End... it might have been more engaging if we had someone with a Drakran background in our party or if we had the opportunity to get to know more about Komanov or meet her in a previous adventure, but I know that this is hard to pull off without the PCs trying to get a hold on her immediately
As for the message of Price-Hill's demise... that really came out of nowhere and was a huge shock indeed. Especially as the leader of the RHC was such a beloved character. We'll see where this is going next time )
A battle of wits
Without making any further sound, Gabriel ambushes Komanov from the ice ridge and attacks her fiercely with his Kukris. Meanwhile, Auryn turns his attention to the giant warlord so that he cannot intervene for his mistress at the last second. While it engages with her, trying to defend against her nimble strikes, the giant utters a low call and something deep inside the ice responds with a loud cracking sound.
Komanov clenches her teeth in pain and stumbles, trying to call forth divine energy, but the worm inside the ice reacts first. With a burst of frost and shattering ice shards, it lunges outward in defense of its ancient master and Komanov. The maw of the creature clamps down on Gabriel’s shoulder, piercing his shoulder, dragging him sideways across the ice. Fortunately, the worm's bite loosens long enough for Gabriel to return to Komanov and strike her before she is able to unleash her terrible magic.
Already weakened, the priestess reaches for a potion offered by her acolyte, but Gabriel is faster. With a slash of force energy, the vial shatters in her hands, and the liquid splatters to the ground. Komanov stares in disbelief at such a quick strike, then collapses in a heap.
Behind them, the undead warlord roars, swinging a twisted morning star. Auryn ducks beneath the swings, parries a few others, and retaliates with precise rapier strikes. It doesn't take her too long to fell the giant, who collapses in with a shuddering groan.
The worm fares little better. Now exposed, wounded, and leaderless, it becomes prey. Auryn and Gabriel dispatch it swiftly, leaving its shattered remains twitching on the frozen ground. They also make sure that the tongueless servant of Komanov finds his way to the Absurdist Web.
We agree to next take Komanov's weapon, in which we suspect the Eye of the Voice of Rot is located, to safety. So we teleport the wicked object to Slate and hand it over to the capable hands of Harkover Lee, whom we instruct to treat the thing with the necessary caution and take it apart. We also take care of the dead giant, freeing him from all necromantic influences. After that, we return to Heid to discuss the army still besieging the city.
Back in Bhad Rhyzhavdut, we meet again with Philosopher Heid, whose eyes are shadowed but unbroken. The siege continues, though the army of the end has grown more confused in the absence of its prophet. Together with the philosopher, we agree that it is probably best to dismantle Komanov’s cult not with blades, but with words.
“She cannot be allowed to become a martyr,” Auryn explains. “We don’t just defeat her - we unmask her, strip her of every ounce of false glory right before the very people she sought to mislead.”
“The faithful must watch her doctrine fail, publicly,” Gabriel adds. “They must see that she was not a prophet of the End. Just a woman with too much power and ambition. And with one terrible Titan master.”
Heid, ever the stoic philosopher, nods after a moment of reflection.
“Then we shall debate.”
So we agree that for this, it is probably best to place Komanov in an anti-magic field, so that she cannot use any dirty tricks or run away by magical means, and then dismantle her philosophy in a debate. We ask Heid to take a prominent role in this, as the people of Drakr consider him a philosophical luminary, and we agree to support him with arguments.
So we publicly declare that we will challenge Grandis Komanov in a traditional Drakran philosophical debate to gain the attention of both the public and the army of the end. One by one, Soldiers, citizens, cultists, and philosophers alike gather in uneasy silence. Komanov, now being healed up enough to debate, bound in enchanted manacles, is placed within a circular anti-magic field, a soft blue aura humming around her like the eye of a storm. Her face is gaunt, but her gaze remains burning, unrepentant and unwavering. We tell her that we have come to challenge her in front of her people, and it appears as though she is... almost happy to enter the debate. Komanov then explains her philosophy of the end:
“I do not fear judgment, for I have seen what waits beyond the veil,” she says, her voice clear, carried by sheer force of belief.
“The world is ending. Not metaphorically. Not eventually. Now. And because of that truth, nothing you do matters anymore. There are no consequences for your actions anymore. So why pretend otherwise? Why not embrace it? If our stories end, let them end gloriously. According to our own will”
Secondly, she states, history and traditions are shaped by personal experiences, so everyone should fulfill their own great destiny.
"And the corrupt - those in power who never feared consequences - feared me. And rightly so. Because I gave the people the freedom to form their own end. It is them who should .be brought down, as they only chain us to mediocrity."
She then gestures towards her army:
“And them? They were farmers, fishermen, widows. Broken people. Now they are warriors.People who can acieve greatness and form a fine end for their own story. Just like in the stories of old."
Komanov then points first at Vlendam Heid and then at us.
"You, Heid, you hide behind questions, fencing with elaborate words and thoughts. Lulling the people just like those weak politicians. And you, Risuri, hide behind your order and righteousness. You think those values will save you? You are merely delaying the inevitable while giving people false hope. I am no villain. I am the ice that clears the murky waters. And you are the damp ash of an age already dead.”
Auryn responds in return, calm but fierce.
“I know you’ve seen the end... but you misunderstood its ontext. You say nothing matters. We say everything does. The world isn’t dying because it is time- it’s dying because someone tried to rewrite its laws. That was the Obscurati’s doing, and we are undoing their damage. We’ve seen the cracks, we've learned their ritual and we know how to undo it. Our world has a future”
She takes a step forward.
“You chose to give up. We choose to fight.”
Then Gabriel raises his voice next, steady, but almost gentle.
“You speak of great destinies as though they belong to all - but most of your so-called heroes were, as you just elaborated, once people with quiet, honest lives. Fishermen who fed their neighbors. Farmers who braved the elements to keep others alive.
There is nobility in the simple. The quiet. Not everyone needs glory to find meaning.”
(ah yes, the perfect argument for a former butler)
A murmur ripples through the crowd.
“You mock weakness, Komanov. But we call it humanity. And those with true strength, those with power, should not rule through fear. The best leaders are those who listen. Those who lift. Heid never ordered armies. He inspired thought. That is what power should do. Not commanding armies, pushing their people towards death, making their lives a living nightmare”
Auryn then brings forth the next counter-argument:
“Yes, there are corrupt politicians. Yes, Drakr’s leadership failed its people. But for every corrupt leader, there's at least one who is honest and sincere. Some of them stood against the tide, like Heid, who stayed in Bhad Rhyzhavdut, or King Gabriel of Risur, a supposed enemy, who came to Drakr's aid despite your nation's pact with the Obscurati. They subjugated Drakr to the Obs, ignoring the will of the people, just for the sake of securing their power, yes. But philosophers like Heid have always used their power to guide with wisdom, and he opposes the Obs."
She also explains that there is nothing wrong with admitting one's weaknesses and growing from them, as not everyone in the world has to be a warrior, just like King Gabriel already said. A wise leader, she explains, takes the weak into consideration and gives them a voice instead of oppressing them.
Gabriel then picks up the train of thought to finish our argument:
„We came here, knowing that we'd most likely face adversity. We risked our lives not for glory, not for conquest, but to protect the people of Drakr, a country whose leaders would probably rather see us dead, from your 'End of the world'. That is not cowardice. That is conviction. "
Komanov laughs bitterly in disbelief.
“You think they’ll believe you over me?”
But the crowd is already shifting. A few of her followers are whispering, while some look uncertain.
“I gave them strength... the strength to choose their own end”, she hisses.
Auryn meets her gaze, slowly shaking her head.
“No. You gave them permission to despair. You wrapped oblivion in philosophy and sold it as salvation.”
It seems that our arguments are winning out over those of Komanov, as one by one the army of the end lay down their weapons. And with their conviction gone, the blizzard, and the hivemind are gradually dissipating. Then something strange happens.
The energy starts flowing southward, a current of invisible thought trailing through the dimly lit sky.
Hours pass. The city's defenses are rebuilt in places. Meanwhile, Asrabey leads sweeps through the frozen wastelands with local troops, chasing down loyalists and routing the last of the Vsadni, the undead horsemen. With Komanov captured, and her philosophy dismantled, the morale of her followers has collapsed.
(no dwarven implosion here since Komanov was pretty much shackled and shielded from magic.)
Then, a sudden pulse of arcane energy flickers as a small contingent of well-armed, well-uniformed Drakran soldiers teleport to out site. They bear the crest not of warlords, but of the official government of Drakr. Their commander delivers a simple message: “The Vice-Chancellor of Drakr wishes to meet with you. Your presence is requested in Trekholm.”
We exchange nods with Heid, who seems both curious and wary. Without hesitation, we agree to take the philosopher with us and teleport to Trekholm. There, we learn that the vice-chancellor has apparently distanced himself from the Obs.
"We underestimated the influence Grandis Komanov and her cult had. We did nothing, our eyes clouded, and our so-presumed 'allies' uninterested in the pleas of the north,” he admits, plainly. “But you, who were supposed to be our enemies, listened. You came. You helped our people to get rid of the icy scourge of the end. And for that, Drakr owes you more than words.”
He also commends Heid for his unwavering voice during dark times.and instead thanks Risur and Heid for their courageous intervention in the north.
King Gabriel then steps forth to make an announcement of his own:
“Then today indeed marks the end of the old world. Not through destruction, as Grandis Komanov believed, but through unity. The cold war between Drakr and Risur is over at last.“
He then glances at Auryn and nods in affirmation
„And this end, this change is not a threat. It is a glimmer of hope for a broken world.”
As if to underscore the shift, an arriving Danoran military train carrying soldiers is sent back to Danor. Though the Danorans make no protest, their silence feels intentional as if at least some of them are grateful to not be caught up in the conflict.
Unfortunately, his good mood is immediately dampened when Gabriel receives a sending from Harkover Lee. With a fair amount of shock on his face he turns to Auryn and the rest of the crew.
„I'm sorry... I know this should be a moment of rejoice... but I just got terrible news. Herkover Lee just told me that Lord Price-Hill has been found dead on his estate.“
(If you know our party, then you'd maybe already guessed that we formed our own counter-arguments against Komanov. And yep, this kind of “philosophical encounter” is what makes this adventure path so interesting. As for the philosopher of the End... it might have been more engaging if we had someone with a Drakran background in our party or if we had the opportunity to get to know more about Komanov or meet her in a previous adventure, but I know that this is hard to pull off without the PCs trying to get a hold on her immediately
As for the message of Price-Hill's demise... that really came out of nowhere and was a huge shock indeed. Especially as the leader of the RHC was such a beloved character. We'll see where this is going next time )
RangerWickett
Legend
That is really well-said.
Shadows of the past
Auryn's face turns a pale bronze, as she looks at Gabriel in utter disbelief. Both she and the King exchange grim looks, and without further discussion they conclude the arrangements with the Drakrans, offer Heid a final bow of gratitude, and then teleport back to Slate in an instant.
Lee looks just as if he'd expected us no second later, as he greets us in the palace with a face lined by more worries than usual. His report is clinical, but there is a nervous tension beneath it.
„Tell me.“, Gabriel states with a kind of sternness that's barely enough to hide what might be going on inside of him.
“Shot in the head,” Lee explains. “A pistol in his own hand. Every fact points to suicide… except that none of it feels right. This is Price-Hill we're talking about, not some emotional fool”
“We’ll see for ourselves,” Gabriel growls. „After all, examining crime scenes is still one of our specialties...“, he adds, while sounding more uneasy this time.
(well yeah, it is different when you have to be ready to examine a dead confidante.)
We head straight to the Lord's estate to examine the scene of the crime. As we're ready to move in, we see RHC agents guarding the perimeter as if afraid to enter the site where their Lord Commander found his end.
Inside, Auryn moves swiftly towards what's left of Lord Price-Hill. As she kneels beside his body, her brow creases.
“Lee was right. This was no suicide.“, she says after taking just one look at the hand that's still holding the pistol.
“His wrist is broken,” she adds quietly, before touching said wrist gently. “Pretty badly. He couldn’t have held a pistol steady, let alone fired it.”
Gabriel nods swiftly, taking one glance at the RHC agents, but biting his toungue as he represses to openly ask the question how they could have possibly missed what was so obvious to his partner. He then inspects the room with proper respect. The clues he gets as he sees dust displaced, and a couple shelves strangely bare in places, adding more evidence to the obvious.
„Missing inventory. Maybe the murderer was after one of Price-Hill's secrets? But what could it...“
Gabriel's monologue stops suddenly as both he and Auryn get a glimpse of someone familiar at the same time.
„He's in the mirror! He's... still here!“ Auryn almost shouts in surprise as she takes out her pocket mirror, while Gabriel feels the familiar, unnerving presence of the recently deceased.
Gabriel closes his eyes and reaches out with practiced calm, letting his mind slip into the flickering twilight of the dead. A familiar, silvery silhouette forms in front of his inner eye, dignified even in death, yet wracked with guilt.
“Your Majesty…” Price-Hill whispers. “I am sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Gabriel answers softly. “Tell me what happened.”
The Viscount’s tale unfolds like a nightmare. An ambush. Abducted into a vault of stone and shadow. His servants - all Deva - dragged away from him into darkness by strange eladrin captors with cold, bright eyes. And finally, being returned to his own home, a gun pressed into his broken hand, compelled by some unknown force magic to pull the trigger.
“I failed them,” Price-Hill says, voice shuddering. “My RHC agents… and all those who went missing over the last couple of months. I should have reported the disappearances sooner. I shouldn't have just kept the intel inside my safe, trying to solve the puzzle on my own. I should have known better...”
“Viscount,” Gabriel replies, firm yet gentle, “you have not failed. You stayed because you believed your duty wasn’t finished. Rest assured that we will find the missing people and your agents.”
As he senses that Price-Hill's spirit is a bit relieved, he ends the connection and bids the Lord farewell.
We then search for Price-Hill's safe and the aforementioned files and find a tightly bound dossier. It contains reports, dozens of them, detailing missing Deva across Risur. Among them two from Flint. Gabriel’s expression hardens as he realizes that one of the two is someone he knows personally.
The curator of the museum,” he says, tapping a name. „I... wanted to share a good bottle with him once matters would quiet down a bit.“, he states with regret, pressing his lips.
(Remember when these two met back in adventure #3? It was a brief, but sweet and melancholic moment. Impactful enough to affect Gabriel personally.)
„And I fear that this pattern might point to someone far more familiar: Eddie. We know that he tried to take Srasama's essence from me. He made it look like an assassination attempt on the Vantrys family back then. He's making it look like Price-Hill has committed suicide over having dark secrets now.“
Auryn nods quietly in agreement and puts her hand on Gabriel's shoulder.
„We'll find the Deva. This will stop. I promise.“
Just as we return to RHC headquarters to begin preparations to track down the “dark vault,” another message from Lee arrives.
“Your Majesty,” he says, “sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor. Betronga of Elfaivar. He claims it is urgent.”
„One moment I may spare...“ Gabriel mumbles, as he leaves the RHC and asks Delft to take over the leadership of the RHC on an interim basis.
Back in the palace, we receive Betronga and what appears to be his 'entourage'.Betronga stands tall and proud in the audience chamber, adorned in ceremonial armor of the children of Hewanharimau, flanked by two guards who grip a bound prisoner: a wiry Eadrin man covered in marked with devilish tattoos.
“This man,” Betronga begins stiffly, “is Anduin Haldyr. A defector from the Kingdom of Vardanis. He demands asylum. I have brought him here because the old King said he'd protectorate our lands and Elfaivar thus honors Risuri law....“ he then pauses, gives a quick, cat-like grown and adds „...even though I do not like it and would gladly rip out his throat.”
(just a quick note for the odd naming inspiration. Anduin should be known from both LotR and WoW, while Haldyr is the name of a character from our old guild. He was a dwarf rogue though
)
We quickly explain to Betronga that an honest defector could be extremely useful to us, right before we turn to the Eladrin to ask him about the reason for his change of heart.
He reports that he was one of King Vardanis' favourites and a candidate for 'ascension'. However, his companion, an Eladrin Deva named Lina-Even, recently disappeared. Shortly afterwards, the king set off for the Eternal City, promising to grant ascension to thousands of Eladrin, which seemed highly suspicious to him.
“You know, ascension has always been the privilege of a chosen few.“, Anduin explains with a sense of pride.
„But everything changed after his alliance with the prophet, the 'gray eminence', whose whispers lead to a cult-like circle of followers, especially in these weakling colonies. And those who vanish… do not return.”
He takes a deep breath ask the memory of his companion appears to be too painful, even for a fel-touched Eladrin like him.
„A bit late for that kind of revelation, but... sometimes it takes the pain of love to open your eyes“, Auryn states, giving her approval in that matter to Gabriel with a slight nod.
So we grant him refuge, but we insist that he is to be placed in a secure “guest cell” until we know more. Anduin Haldyr accepts the confinement with a bowed head, though he does not seem too happy with this development. Betronga grumbles openly, however.
“I had hoped for the opportunity to bite his head off...”, the warrior mutters.
Gabriel gives him a wry half-smile. “You may yet get the chance... if he’s lying and this turns out to be another trap that is.”
Betronga narrows his eyes but says nothing more.
Gabriel’s expression, though superficially calm, is set like iron. Every new thread of evidence points toward the same conclusion.
“Eddie is with Vardanis,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “And if the Deva are vanishing in both Risur and Elfaivar… then he’s collecting them. Their divine sparks. Srasama’s sparks.”
He then quietly clenches a fist while staring blankly into the distance, stating without words that this is his responsibility. That he might have prevented this, had he just given his own tragedy more priority.
Auryn rests a hand on his arm. “Whatever Eddie is trying to do, it cannot be allowed to continue. He is both a threat to the Deva and to Elfaivar. And even worse, he is twisting our goddess to his will. So whatever path you take, I'll walk it with you.“
“It doesn't matter what he intends to do. The divine sparks belonged to Srasama. She has sown them into us we she died. They are not meant to be ripped from us and used for whatever his twisted mind is dreaming of. I take it on me to free them so that Srasama can choose her own fate.”
He then adds that it would be wise to take all we've learned from Eddie's failed ritual on Gabriel with us – just in case we have to try and take his essence in return. In addition to the ritual, Auryn suggests that we take more pieces of the fallen white star of Srasama with us, as it was seemingly able to strip Stanfield of his divinity.
Gabriel allows himself a thin, approving smile. “You are right, it was as if Srasama herself took back what she had granted. We’ll bring them.”
Next, we meet the RHC team from Slate at an old estate in the forest, as they followed the tracks of the attackers in the mean time and found out where Price-Hill and his servants were held captive.
Delft, in his interim-command coat, scratches the back of his head.
“It’s quite creepy and damp in here. Whole place feels like a mausoleum. Found scorch marks. Something got summoned or dismissed here.”
We're quite surprised to see Delft over here, but realize that the Chief must have had his own connection to Lord Price-Hill and took it onto himself to search for clues. Even though it is quite obvious that he hasn't been out in the field for quite some time.
Auryn takes one quick look at a fading circle carved into the floor. “Not summoned,” she murmurs. “Departed. A teleportation ritual of considerable power. And it seems eerily familiar. Looks quite like the one Asrabey and Kasvarina used on Axis”
Gabriel rolls his eyes with a sigh, as he knows exactly what comes next.
So we teleport back to Slate to go find Asrabey, who is far more eager to join up with King Gabriel again.
“Asrabey,” Gabriel calls, taking a deep breath, “You navigated deeper into the Eternal City than any living explorer. The teleportation ritual you and Kasvarina used back on Axis island came from there. We need you as our guide down there.“
Asrabey accepts the request with a broad grin as he finally has an opportunity to leave Slate again and get into action.
As we understand that we'll most likely need more support this time, we also take Margit and Betronga with us. As a first step, we teleport to Sawyer to gather more information, and to keep an eye out for other Eladrin who have already been to the mysterious Eternal City.
(Asrabey-Margit-Betronga is one tem we'd not expect to see anytime soon before this episode. Taking two Eladrin felt pretty logical, and we knew we'd needea cleric in a deep, dark dungeon cough)
Sawyer is tense. The markets are active, yet there’s a shadow over every conversation. Betronga takes his time to speak with a veteran captain while we ask around about the missing Deva. We quickly learn that basicaly all of the remaining Deva in Elfaivar have also disappeared, and that there have been attacks there as well. We also ask the local scholars about anyone who might’ve entered the Eternal City recently or in the past, be it a veteran, an explorer, even a smuggler.
Their answers form a consistent refrain: None went as far down there as the Dreadnaught did. None returned with more than fragments of memory and the sense that something terrifying must be hidden down below the Eternal City.
Asrabey looks at this news with a sense of pride. “Then we waste no more time. You bring me there. And I'll show you how I snuck inside last time.”
We set off as quickly as possible and teleport to the outskirts of the Eterny City. Unlike last time, it appers to be less fortified by the forces of Rationalis and Vardanis. Still, we agree that it would be wise to not draw attention so early. Fortunately, Asrabey is able to find his secret entrance, allowing us to bypass the Feladrin and Danoran guards.
We descend a narrow stairway until it opens onto a massive stone gate carved with spiral motifs, leading deeper into the buried vaults of the Eternal City. To our surprise, we find a body lying in front of it. We instantly see that this was a Danoran soldier, twisted unnaturally, his armor crushed inward.
“He stepped on the wrong stone. A pressure rune.”, Margit states dryly.
Asrabey crouches, tracing the ancient inscriptions. “Old defenses. The city was designed to protect its secrets, even from our kind.”
With the practiced hands of both an RHC agent and a trap-savvy alchemist, Gabriel disarms the remaining trap lines and pushes open the colossal gate.
“Then we tread carefully. As always.”, he states while gesturing forward.
(This is pretty obviously going to be a more personal episode for Gabriel. We had no idea whether Tiz would wrap up the Eddie story eventually, and, well... it escalated more that we'd thought. So yeah, this is going to be a good detour from the original story.)
Auryn's face turns a pale bronze, as she looks at Gabriel in utter disbelief. Both she and the King exchange grim looks, and without further discussion they conclude the arrangements with the Drakrans, offer Heid a final bow of gratitude, and then teleport back to Slate in an instant.
Lee looks just as if he'd expected us no second later, as he greets us in the palace with a face lined by more worries than usual. His report is clinical, but there is a nervous tension beneath it.
„Tell me.“, Gabriel states with a kind of sternness that's barely enough to hide what might be going on inside of him.
“Shot in the head,” Lee explains. “A pistol in his own hand. Every fact points to suicide… except that none of it feels right. This is Price-Hill we're talking about, not some emotional fool”
“We’ll see for ourselves,” Gabriel growls. „After all, examining crime scenes is still one of our specialties...“, he adds, while sounding more uneasy this time.
(well yeah, it is different when you have to be ready to examine a dead confidante.)
We head straight to the Lord's estate to examine the scene of the crime. As we're ready to move in, we see RHC agents guarding the perimeter as if afraid to enter the site where their Lord Commander found his end.
Inside, Auryn moves swiftly towards what's left of Lord Price-Hill. As she kneels beside his body, her brow creases.
“Lee was right. This was no suicide.“, she says after taking just one look at the hand that's still holding the pistol.
“His wrist is broken,” she adds quietly, before touching said wrist gently. “Pretty badly. He couldn’t have held a pistol steady, let alone fired it.”
Gabriel nods swiftly, taking one glance at the RHC agents, but biting his toungue as he represses to openly ask the question how they could have possibly missed what was so obvious to his partner. He then inspects the room with proper respect. The clues he gets as he sees dust displaced, and a couple shelves strangely bare in places, adding more evidence to the obvious.
„Missing inventory. Maybe the murderer was after one of Price-Hill's secrets? But what could it...“
Gabriel's monologue stops suddenly as both he and Auryn get a glimpse of someone familiar at the same time.
„He's in the mirror! He's... still here!“ Auryn almost shouts in surprise as she takes out her pocket mirror, while Gabriel feels the familiar, unnerving presence of the recently deceased.
Gabriel closes his eyes and reaches out with practiced calm, letting his mind slip into the flickering twilight of the dead. A familiar, silvery silhouette forms in front of his inner eye, dignified even in death, yet wracked with guilt.
“Your Majesty…” Price-Hill whispers. “I am sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Gabriel answers softly. “Tell me what happened.”
The Viscount’s tale unfolds like a nightmare. An ambush. Abducted into a vault of stone and shadow. His servants - all Deva - dragged away from him into darkness by strange eladrin captors with cold, bright eyes. And finally, being returned to his own home, a gun pressed into his broken hand, compelled by some unknown force magic to pull the trigger.
“I failed them,” Price-Hill says, voice shuddering. “My RHC agents… and all those who went missing over the last couple of months. I should have reported the disappearances sooner. I shouldn't have just kept the intel inside my safe, trying to solve the puzzle on my own. I should have known better...”
“Viscount,” Gabriel replies, firm yet gentle, “you have not failed. You stayed because you believed your duty wasn’t finished. Rest assured that we will find the missing people and your agents.”
As he senses that Price-Hill's spirit is a bit relieved, he ends the connection and bids the Lord farewell.
We then search for Price-Hill's safe and the aforementioned files and find a tightly bound dossier. It contains reports, dozens of them, detailing missing Deva across Risur. Among them two from Flint. Gabriel’s expression hardens as he realizes that one of the two is someone he knows personally.
The curator of the museum,” he says, tapping a name. „I... wanted to share a good bottle with him once matters would quiet down a bit.“, he states with regret, pressing his lips.
(Remember when these two met back in adventure #3? It was a brief, but sweet and melancholic moment. Impactful enough to affect Gabriel personally.)
„And I fear that this pattern might point to someone far more familiar: Eddie. We know that he tried to take Srasama's essence from me. He made it look like an assassination attempt on the Vantrys family back then. He's making it look like Price-Hill has committed suicide over having dark secrets now.“
Auryn nods quietly in agreement and puts her hand on Gabriel's shoulder.
„We'll find the Deva. This will stop. I promise.“
Just as we return to RHC headquarters to begin preparations to track down the “dark vault,” another message from Lee arrives.
“Your Majesty,” he says, “sorry to interrupt, but you have a visitor. Betronga of Elfaivar. He claims it is urgent.”
„One moment I may spare...“ Gabriel mumbles, as he leaves the RHC and asks Delft to take over the leadership of the RHC on an interim basis.
Back in the palace, we receive Betronga and what appears to be his 'entourage'.Betronga stands tall and proud in the audience chamber, adorned in ceremonial armor of the children of Hewanharimau, flanked by two guards who grip a bound prisoner: a wiry Eadrin man covered in marked with devilish tattoos.
“This man,” Betronga begins stiffly, “is Anduin Haldyr. A defector from the Kingdom of Vardanis. He demands asylum. I have brought him here because the old King said he'd protectorate our lands and Elfaivar thus honors Risuri law....“ he then pauses, gives a quick, cat-like grown and adds „...even though I do not like it and would gladly rip out his throat.”
(just a quick note for the odd naming inspiration. Anduin should be known from both LotR and WoW, while Haldyr is the name of a character from our old guild. He was a dwarf rogue though
)We quickly explain to Betronga that an honest defector could be extremely useful to us, right before we turn to the Eladrin to ask him about the reason for his change of heart.
He reports that he was one of King Vardanis' favourites and a candidate for 'ascension'. However, his companion, an Eladrin Deva named Lina-Even, recently disappeared. Shortly afterwards, the king set off for the Eternal City, promising to grant ascension to thousands of Eladrin, which seemed highly suspicious to him.
“You know, ascension has always been the privilege of a chosen few.“, Anduin explains with a sense of pride.
„But everything changed after his alliance with the prophet, the 'gray eminence', whose whispers lead to a cult-like circle of followers, especially in these weakling colonies. And those who vanish… do not return.”
He takes a deep breath ask the memory of his companion appears to be too painful, even for a fel-touched Eladrin like him.
„A bit late for that kind of revelation, but... sometimes it takes the pain of love to open your eyes“, Auryn states, giving her approval in that matter to Gabriel with a slight nod.
So we grant him refuge, but we insist that he is to be placed in a secure “guest cell” until we know more. Anduin Haldyr accepts the confinement with a bowed head, though he does not seem too happy with this development. Betronga grumbles openly, however.
“I had hoped for the opportunity to bite his head off...”, the warrior mutters.
Gabriel gives him a wry half-smile. “You may yet get the chance... if he’s lying and this turns out to be another trap that is.”
Betronga narrows his eyes but says nothing more.
Gabriel’s expression, though superficially calm, is set like iron. Every new thread of evidence points toward the same conclusion.
“Eddie is with Vardanis,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “And if the Deva are vanishing in both Risur and Elfaivar… then he’s collecting them. Their divine sparks. Srasama’s sparks.”
He then quietly clenches a fist while staring blankly into the distance, stating without words that this is his responsibility. That he might have prevented this, had he just given his own tragedy more priority.
Auryn rests a hand on his arm. “Whatever Eddie is trying to do, it cannot be allowed to continue. He is both a threat to the Deva and to Elfaivar. And even worse, he is twisting our goddess to his will. So whatever path you take, I'll walk it with you.“
“It doesn't matter what he intends to do. The divine sparks belonged to Srasama. She has sown them into us we she died. They are not meant to be ripped from us and used for whatever his twisted mind is dreaming of. I take it on me to free them so that Srasama can choose her own fate.”
He then adds that it would be wise to take all we've learned from Eddie's failed ritual on Gabriel with us – just in case we have to try and take his essence in return. In addition to the ritual, Auryn suggests that we take more pieces of the fallen white star of Srasama with us, as it was seemingly able to strip Stanfield of his divinity.
Gabriel allows himself a thin, approving smile. “You are right, it was as if Srasama herself took back what she had granted. We’ll bring them.”
Next, we meet the RHC team from Slate at an old estate in the forest, as they followed the tracks of the attackers in the mean time and found out where Price-Hill and his servants were held captive.
Delft, in his interim-command coat, scratches the back of his head.
“It’s quite creepy and damp in here. Whole place feels like a mausoleum. Found scorch marks. Something got summoned or dismissed here.”
We're quite surprised to see Delft over here, but realize that the Chief must have had his own connection to Lord Price-Hill and took it onto himself to search for clues. Even though it is quite obvious that he hasn't been out in the field for quite some time.
Auryn takes one quick look at a fading circle carved into the floor. “Not summoned,” she murmurs. “Departed. A teleportation ritual of considerable power. And it seems eerily familiar. Looks quite like the one Asrabey and Kasvarina used on Axis”
Gabriel rolls his eyes with a sigh, as he knows exactly what comes next.
So we teleport back to Slate to go find Asrabey, who is far more eager to join up with King Gabriel again.
“Asrabey,” Gabriel calls, taking a deep breath, “You navigated deeper into the Eternal City than any living explorer. The teleportation ritual you and Kasvarina used back on Axis island came from there. We need you as our guide down there.“
Asrabey accepts the request with a broad grin as he finally has an opportunity to leave Slate again and get into action.
As we understand that we'll most likely need more support this time, we also take Margit and Betronga with us. As a first step, we teleport to Sawyer to gather more information, and to keep an eye out for other Eladrin who have already been to the mysterious Eternal City.
(Asrabey-Margit-Betronga is one tem we'd not expect to see anytime soon before this episode. Taking two Eladrin felt pretty logical, and we knew we'd needea cleric in a deep, dark dungeon cough)
Sawyer is tense. The markets are active, yet there’s a shadow over every conversation. Betronga takes his time to speak with a veteran captain while we ask around about the missing Deva. We quickly learn that basicaly all of the remaining Deva in Elfaivar have also disappeared, and that there have been attacks there as well. We also ask the local scholars about anyone who might’ve entered the Eternal City recently or in the past, be it a veteran, an explorer, even a smuggler.
Their answers form a consistent refrain: None went as far down there as the Dreadnaught did. None returned with more than fragments of memory and the sense that something terrifying must be hidden down below the Eternal City.
Asrabey looks at this news with a sense of pride. “Then we waste no more time. You bring me there. And I'll show you how I snuck inside last time.”
We set off as quickly as possible and teleport to the outskirts of the Eterny City. Unlike last time, it appers to be less fortified by the forces of Rationalis and Vardanis. Still, we agree that it would be wise to not draw attention so early. Fortunately, Asrabey is able to find his secret entrance, allowing us to bypass the Feladrin and Danoran guards.
We descend a narrow stairway until it opens onto a massive stone gate carved with spiral motifs, leading deeper into the buried vaults of the Eternal City. To our surprise, we find a body lying in front of it. We instantly see that this was a Danoran soldier, twisted unnaturally, his armor crushed inward.
“He stepped on the wrong stone. A pressure rune.”, Margit states dryly.
Asrabey crouches, tracing the ancient inscriptions. “Old defenses. The city was designed to protect its secrets, even from our kind.”
With the practiced hands of both an RHC agent and a trap-savvy alchemist, Gabriel disarms the remaining trap lines and pushes open the colossal gate.
“Then we tread carefully. As always.”, he states while gesturing forward.
(This is pretty obviously going to be a more personal episode for Gabriel. We had no idea whether Tiz would wrap up the Eddie story eventually, and, well... it escalated more that we'd thought. So yeah, this is going to be a good detour from the original story.)
Through dungeons deep...
The tunnels beyond the stone gate turn out to be far more labyrinth-like than we had anticipated. What is remarkable is the fact that this part of the city, even as we venture deep inside the structure, has once been inhabited. We advance carefully, weaving through branching passages and hollowed-out chambers that once housed scholars or priests, while some quarters must have been some kind of barracks for guards or soldiers. Their furniture has long since crumbled, but their defenses have not. We repeatedly encounter traps and locking mechanisms, which we disable carefully.
A few corridors later, we find twenty Danorans arranged like broken dolls across the hallway, right in front of another magnificent gate. A faint shimmer hums above them, manifesting in the form of a barrier of silver light.
“A ward against evil creatures... hmm...” Auryn observes, wondering about the interaction of the ancient magic with the nature of Tieflings.
“Well, since none of us has evil intents, and none of us has been twisted by a divine curse, I suppose that it is safe to continue”, she concludes and passes the barrier without being harmed.
Fortunately, all of us pass the test of the ancient magic, and we make our way behind it towards the next room. We enter a chamber of shelves and shattered tablets: the library Asrabey spoke of, where he not only learned more about teleportation magic, but also found the ritual he used against Beshela.
He slowly passes by piles of scrolls and ancient tomes, partly in reverence, and partly in shame. “I spent days here… and barely understood a fraction. It was pure coincidence that I found what I found...”
Gabriel raises his brows swiftly, but then prefers to stay silent in that matter. We look around at the remaining works and find various signs that catch our interest. We spot holy symbols of common proto-deities that appear to have counterparts among both the Crisillyiri and the Eladrin.
„If these symbols predate every pantheon…”, Gabriel states with a sense of revelation, “...then perhaps there were no concrete gods to begin with. Maybe they were made. Elevated by something akin to a primordial Ritual of Apotheosis perhaps?.”
„A well-thought out theory. Definitely some thought-fodder for the scholars once we return.“, Auryn comments, not sure whether she's comfortable with pursuing this theory even further.
(Tiz wanted to add some bit of lore to the Ancient City. It seems a bit ironic that, of all cultures, Crisillyir and Elfaivar could have had the same roots...)
Unfortunately, there’s no sign of Deva or their captors here. And since Asrabey never ventured deeper, the path forward becomes guesswork. So we continue further by letting our instincts guide us. After a while, we find shattered stone golems and a torn note that mentions an ancient plane gate that is said to have once served as a source of power.
Gabriel exhales sharply. “Vardanis and Eddie. They’re heading for a planar gate. Gods know what they are going to do with it. Yet another reason to not waste too much time here”
So we continue down our path, guessing that it might be the right track as long as we're finding the odd dead Danoran or Feladrin every now and then.
Behind yet another well-secured gate, we finally discover a living person, who turns out to be a veiled woman who's just about to venture down a long and wide malachite staircase. When she realizes that she's not alone anymore, she turns around calmly and with composure, as if she somehow expected us.
“Oh, it is you. How fortunate.“, she says with an oddly familiar voice.
„It is me, Shealis,” she says, dipping her head. “My trail has led me here. And you as well, I suppose?”
Auryn tenses. “The trail… of what, exactly? You're not trying to... hoard ancient magic again, are you?”
Shealis' eyes glimmer behind the veil. “Magic? Don't be silly. I already have plenty of magic. The trail of dragons, of course. There are draconic runes down there that could be fatal.”
Margit glances between them. “Dragons?”
“Old business,” Gabriel says briefly, brushing off the subject. “Shealis, can you neutralize the runes?”
The elf woman nods briefly and leads us down the staircase, correctly identifying and dispelling each and every rune down the way. She is a bit surprised to see that they must have been magically suppressed not too long ago though.
(Now that was one hell of a surprise! Shealis is, of course, the elf alias of Teraklir who enrolled in Pardwright. We know, of course, that she is referring to the trail of the missing dragons, but we prefer to keep this information secret from Betronga, Margit, and Asrabey)
Together, we move on further down the caverns. Not far beyond the staircase, an unusual glow flickers right in front of us. It dances like sunlight on moving water, making us advance with caution. We're quite surprised to see a miniature angelic being hovering there, sword drawn, her luminous wings beating furiously.
“Halt!” she squeaks in a voice far too bold for her tiny stature. “By order of Toteth Topec, none may pass!”
Auryn blinks. “Toteth Topec? Now that's a coincidence! We know him. He shared one of his margaritas with us. We promised him to set things right.“
Gabriel adds, “And we are here to prevent your enemies from misusing the planar power below.”
The tiny angel stamps her foot mid-air. “Enemy intruders always say that! I shall block your path and stay true to my vows!”
All of a sudden, the angel darts at Gabriel with the speed of a needle-thin comet, poking a small but painful hole into his arm. We defend ourselves as gently as one can against such a zealous celestial thumb-sized crusader. Still we're surprised that the blows she lands sting far more than her size suggests. But eventually we outmaneuver her, making her light flicker.
“I… retreat only because I must…” she huffs. “Not… because you are winning…” And with a final defiant squeak, she snaps back to her home plane, leaving behind a miniature rapier of pure starlight that dissolves into Auryn’s blade like a droplet joining the sea.
(I'm still not entirely sure what kind of celestial this one was built upon. But she was an extra-fast rapier-wielding diminuitive ultra precise melee fighter. Who really dealt more damage than your usual monster)
With the way now clear, we venture deeper into the vault, which gradually becomes greener and greener until the walls are made entirely of malachite. We slip past a few Feladrin patrols and finally reach a room that reeks of blood. Inside we see unconscious Feladrin laying down across the floor clearly not dead, but drained of power. We bind them swiftly. But just a few steps beyond, the true horror begins. Behind a shattered altar lie dozens of Deva corpses. Among them the two missing Deva from Flint.
Gabriel moves closer to examine the bodies and is horrified when he finds out the truth. He kneels beside the curator he once knew, brushing the man’s hair back with a slow stroke of his fingers, trying to find words for what cannot, what must not be. “This is all that is left of him. He... didn’t reincarnate,” he whispers. “None of them did.”
Realizing that this is unlike everything she has ever seen from her partner, Auryn kneels beside him to lay her hand on his shoulder. “Gabriel…”
“His spark of Srasama was taken by force,” he says, his voice breaking into anger. “Eddie took it. All of them. He stole their essence.”
He rises slowly, regaining his usual composure, his hands still clenched. “Rest now, old acquaintance. You shall not be unavenged. I swear that I will end this. Whatever Eddie thinks he’s doing it ends right here.”
Auryn stands by him in this difficult hour, trying to ground him with her presence. Still she also yearns for more information, so she turns to talk to the Feladrin. She wakes up one of the prisoners and asks him what in the name of all the gods they are doing here.
The Feladrin's eyes burn bright with fanatic devotion.
“The Radiant King will be triumphant. With the Gray Eminence, he shall ascend to his final glory.! And we will ascend along with him! None of the lesser races will be able to stop the power of our dominion, of our grand empire!
“Power promised by a madman and a devil,” Auryn spits. “I have seen enough of devils to know that, in the end, they only serve their own interests. And the interests of their masters. Tell me, have you ever heard of Egil the Shimmering?”
The Feladrin blinks. “Who?”
She leans in. “A being who once coveted our world. A being that could be summoned by a sufficiently powerful planar source. Such as the one your 'grand' Mad King Vardanis seeks.”
The prisoner’s face pales, but pride keeps him from accepting that possibility. “Lies.”
“If that's your final take... very well then. You can explain your ‘truths’ to a tribunal”, Auryn says coldly, knocking the Feladrin out again. He and the others are placed inside the absurdist web for the time being, so that they can later be held accountable for their crimes against the Deva.
(“They're fanatics” has become a meme ever since our adventures with Tiz.)
We continue through the entrance to Malachite Fortress and see a group in the distance. A cluster of gray-robed figures stands at the edge of a narrow ravine carved into the green stone floor. They’re murmuring to each other in a strange cadence, like a prayer recited backward. The confrontation is brief. The robed figures barely have time to react before they’re disarmed, bound, and unconscious inside the absurdist web. Their pockets yield a small prism-shaped key, pulsing faintly with enchantment. We realize that this could be a key to the secured fortress in front of us. Fortunately, our suspicion turns out to be correct and the doors open without further ado.
Behind the door, we find a death symbol, which Gabriel takes care of. Beyond the symbol lies an inconspicuous stone well a hidden passage cleverly disguised as part of the wall. The doorway smells faintly of ozone - evidence of magical traps recently triggered. We follow the trail. Door after door, trap after trap, pressure plates, glyphs, and deadfall mechanisms.
Eventually the maze spills us into an armory stacked with spears, swords, and crates of ammunition. Adjacent lies a forge chamber where four exhausted blacksmiths hammer at half-finished weaponry under magical coercion. A quick glance at them reveals that those are not Danorans, but most likely colonials from Risur, Crisillyir, Drakr, and Ber. The moment they see us, panic flashes in their eyes.
“Wait!” Auryn calls to them, as she raises both hands. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to free you.”
The Drakran smith sputters, “Free…? From who? The winged tyrant? The fanged elf? Or whichever devil’s turn it is today?”
Gabriel steps forward. “All of them. Follow us.”
Their relief is fragile, but they understand that we might be their best chance yet. We guide them through two secured secret doors towards a safe zone in between the maze of hidden doors.
“Stay here,” Gabriel tells them gently. “It should be as safe as it gets down here.”
We move further down the passage behind the armory and find a gigantic acidic blob. It burns, spits, and thrashes, but coordinated precision and a few strategic explosions reduce it to an inert steaming sludge. We navigate more traps and hidden doors, eventually reaching the prison wing. The cells are cold, recently used, and filled with the stale dread of suffering. Chains lie broken on the floor, telling uss that people must have been imprisoned here not too long ago. We desperately search for living Deva prisoners, but only find a very hopeless looking man who appears to be one of Price-Hill's servants.
“Are… are you here to take me to the altar?”, he says with fear, his voice barely a whisper.
Gabriel kneels down to cast a healing spell on the man. “No. We’re here because your Lord Inspector would never leave you. He told us what happened.”
Recognition softens the man’s trembling. “My Lord… he stayed? Even after…”
Auryn nods, explaining with a gentle voice: “He blames himself for what happened to you. But you survived. And we’re ending this nightmare.”
The man slowly regains a spark of hope, giving him enough strength to speak more clearly.
“They took the others. One by one. A slender elf with fangs… he came for them. And there was… a devil. Elegant, like he dressed for court.”
Gabriel’s expression darkens. “We’ll find them both.”
We escort the man to the hiding blacksmiths, promise him safety, and venture deeper into the fortress. The deeper we go, the busier the corridors become. More Feladrin, armed, disciplined, and fanatical stand guard. We ambush one patrol, then another. Fortunately, they don't offer much resistance as we them down with a mixture of fey magic and quick, decisive strikes.
Then we burst into a barracks, where yet another group is stationed. This time, they are being led by a captain who appears to be made from a different kind of metal: A towering Feladrin, armor gilded, eyes burning with radiant fanaticism.
“You trespass in the domain of King Vardanis!”, he bellows.
Gabriel answers with a royal determination of his own, grasping his kukris, ready to strike. “And you better make way for King Gabriel of Risur. Move, or fall. Your choice.”
The captain lunges. He is fast, brutal, and drenched in unnatural vigor. But once again our coordinated discipline triumphs. Auryn’s blade flickers like quicksilver, Asrabey’s and Betronga's strikes land with righteous, primal fury, and Gabriel’s divine grace overwhelms the captain’s radiant arrogance. As the room falls silent, we use the time to catch our breath.
Then we hear a sudden, horrified scream. It comes from one of the central corridors. Hoping to come to the aid of one of the Deva, we rush down the hallway into a magically illuminated chamber.
And the scene freezes us in our tracks.
A pale Eladrin vampire sinks its fangs into the throat of a Danoran soldier, blood spilling down its chin. The victim’s eyes glaze as life ebbs away. Beside the vampire stands a man in grey robes who looks like he has fused with a dark, winged angel. Another creature, bigger, brutish, with curling horns and scorched armor flexes its claws in another corner. And on a throne at the far end of the room sits a third figure: An Eladrin whose flesh has half-melted into infernal corruption. Eyes burning like coals. Wings etched in ash.
We enter the ritual room and see a sunken basin carved from pure malachite. It pulses with a sickly, shifting radiance. The liquid inside is thick, dark, and swirling with currents that glow faintly gold. It appears that a lot of Deva blood has already been sacrificed to this fountain of power. The edges of the basin are covered in glowing draconic runes and in the corner, chained by enchanted manacles, lies a blue dragon. Its wings are bound, its snout muzzled with runes of suppression. It appears that they did not expect us to interrupt their congregation, but now that we are here, all eyes are on us.
(Aaand this is where the session ends. What a cliffhanger for a really intense chapter. )
The tunnels beyond the stone gate turn out to be far more labyrinth-like than we had anticipated. What is remarkable is the fact that this part of the city, even as we venture deep inside the structure, has once been inhabited. We advance carefully, weaving through branching passages and hollowed-out chambers that once housed scholars or priests, while some quarters must have been some kind of barracks for guards or soldiers. Their furniture has long since crumbled, but their defenses have not. We repeatedly encounter traps and locking mechanisms, which we disable carefully.
A few corridors later, we find twenty Danorans arranged like broken dolls across the hallway, right in front of another magnificent gate. A faint shimmer hums above them, manifesting in the form of a barrier of silver light.
“A ward against evil creatures... hmm...” Auryn observes, wondering about the interaction of the ancient magic with the nature of Tieflings.
“Well, since none of us has evil intents, and none of us has been twisted by a divine curse, I suppose that it is safe to continue”, she concludes and passes the barrier without being harmed.
Fortunately, all of us pass the test of the ancient magic, and we make our way behind it towards the next room. We enter a chamber of shelves and shattered tablets: the library Asrabey spoke of, where he not only learned more about teleportation magic, but also found the ritual he used against Beshela.
He slowly passes by piles of scrolls and ancient tomes, partly in reverence, and partly in shame. “I spent days here… and barely understood a fraction. It was pure coincidence that I found what I found...”
Gabriel raises his brows swiftly, but then prefers to stay silent in that matter. We look around at the remaining works and find various signs that catch our interest. We spot holy symbols of common proto-deities that appear to have counterparts among both the Crisillyiri and the Eladrin.
„If these symbols predate every pantheon…”, Gabriel states with a sense of revelation, “...then perhaps there were no concrete gods to begin with. Maybe they were made. Elevated by something akin to a primordial Ritual of Apotheosis perhaps?.”
„A well-thought out theory. Definitely some thought-fodder for the scholars once we return.“, Auryn comments, not sure whether she's comfortable with pursuing this theory even further.
(Tiz wanted to add some bit of lore to the Ancient City. It seems a bit ironic that, of all cultures, Crisillyir and Elfaivar could have had the same roots...)
Unfortunately, there’s no sign of Deva or their captors here. And since Asrabey never ventured deeper, the path forward becomes guesswork. So we continue further by letting our instincts guide us. After a while, we find shattered stone golems and a torn note that mentions an ancient plane gate that is said to have once served as a source of power.
Gabriel exhales sharply. “Vardanis and Eddie. They’re heading for a planar gate. Gods know what they are going to do with it. Yet another reason to not waste too much time here”
So we continue down our path, guessing that it might be the right track as long as we're finding the odd dead Danoran or Feladrin every now and then.
Behind yet another well-secured gate, we finally discover a living person, who turns out to be a veiled woman who's just about to venture down a long and wide malachite staircase. When she realizes that she's not alone anymore, she turns around calmly and with composure, as if she somehow expected us.
“Oh, it is you. How fortunate.“, she says with an oddly familiar voice.
„It is me, Shealis,” she says, dipping her head. “My trail has led me here. And you as well, I suppose?”
Auryn tenses. “The trail… of what, exactly? You're not trying to... hoard ancient magic again, are you?”
Shealis' eyes glimmer behind the veil. “Magic? Don't be silly. I already have plenty of magic. The trail of dragons, of course. There are draconic runes down there that could be fatal.”
Margit glances between them. “Dragons?”
“Old business,” Gabriel says briefly, brushing off the subject. “Shealis, can you neutralize the runes?”
The elf woman nods briefly and leads us down the staircase, correctly identifying and dispelling each and every rune down the way. She is a bit surprised to see that they must have been magically suppressed not too long ago though.
(Now that was one hell of a surprise! Shealis is, of course, the elf alias of Teraklir who enrolled in Pardwright. We know, of course, that she is referring to the trail of the missing dragons, but we prefer to keep this information secret from Betronga, Margit, and Asrabey)
Together, we move on further down the caverns. Not far beyond the staircase, an unusual glow flickers right in front of us. It dances like sunlight on moving water, making us advance with caution. We're quite surprised to see a miniature angelic being hovering there, sword drawn, her luminous wings beating furiously.
“Halt!” she squeaks in a voice far too bold for her tiny stature. “By order of Toteth Topec, none may pass!”
Auryn blinks. “Toteth Topec? Now that's a coincidence! We know him. He shared one of his margaritas with us. We promised him to set things right.“
Gabriel adds, “And we are here to prevent your enemies from misusing the planar power below.”
The tiny angel stamps her foot mid-air. “Enemy intruders always say that! I shall block your path and stay true to my vows!”
All of a sudden, the angel darts at Gabriel with the speed of a needle-thin comet, poking a small but painful hole into his arm. We defend ourselves as gently as one can against such a zealous celestial thumb-sized crusader. Still we're surprised that the blows she lands sting far more than her size suggests. But eventually we outmaneuver her, making her light flicker.
“I… retreat only because I must…” she huffs. “Not… because you are winning…” And with a final defiant squeak, she snaps back to her home plane, leaving behind a miniature rapier of pure starlight that dissolves into Auryn’s blade like a droplet joining the sea.
(I'm still not entirely sure what kind of celestial this one was built upon. But she was an extra-fast rapier-wielding diminuitive ultra precise melee fighter. Who really dealt more damage than your usual monster)
With the way now clear, we venture deeper into the vault, which gradually becomes greener and greener until the walls are made entirely of malachite. We slip past a few Feladrin patrols and finally reach a room that reeks of blood. Inside we see unconscious Feladrin laying down across the floor clearly not dead, but drained of power. We bind them swiftly. But just a few steps beyond, the true horror begins. Behind a shattered altar lie dozens of Deva corpses. Among them the two missing Deva from Flint.
Gabriel moves closer to examine the bodies and is horrified when he finds out the truth. He kneels beside the curator he once knew, brushing the man’s hair back with a slow stroke of his fingers, trying to find words for what cannot, what must not be. “This is all that is left of him. He... didn’t reincarnate,” he whispers. “None of them did.”
Realizing that this is unlike everything she has ever seen from her partner, Auryn kneels beside him to lay her hand on his shoulder. “Gabriel…”
“His spark of Srasama was taken by force,” he says, his voice breaking into anger. “Eddie took it. All of them. He stole their essence.”
He rises slowly, regaining his usual composure, his hands still clenched. “Rest now, old acquaintance. You shall not be unavenged. I swear that I will end this. Whatever Eddie thinks he’s doing it ends right here.”
Auryn stands by him in this difficult hour, trying to ground him with her presence. Still she also yearns for more information, so she turns to talk to the Feladrin. She wakes up one of the prisoners and asks him what in the name of all the gods they are doing here.
The Feladrin's eyes burn bright with fanatic devotion.
“The Radiant King will be triumphant. With the Gray Eminence, he shall ascend to his final glory.! And we will ascend along with him! None of the lesser races will be able to stop the power of our dominion, of our grand empire!
“Power promised by a madman and a devil,” Auryn spits. “I have seen enough of devils to know that, in the end, they only serve their own interests. And the interests of their masters. Tell me, have you ever heard of Egil the Shimmering?”
The Feladrin blinks. “Who?”
She leans in. “A being who once coveted our world. A being that could be summoned by a sufficiently powerful planar source. Such as the one your 'grand' Mad King Vardanis seeks.”
The prisoner’s face pales, but pride keeps him from accepting that possibility. “Lies.”
“If that's your final take... very well then. You can explain your ‘truths’ to a tribunal”, Auryn says coldly, knocking the Feladrin out again. He and the others are placed inside the absurdist web for the time being, so that they can later be held accountable for their crimes against the Deva.
(“They're fanatics” has become a meme ever since our adventures with Tiz.)
We continue through the entrance to Malachite Fortress and see a group in the distance. A cluster of gray-robed figures stands at the edge of a narrow ravine carved into the green stone floor. They’re murmuring to each other in a strange cadence, like a prayer recited backward. The confrontation is brief. The robed figures barely have time to react before they’re disarmed, bound, and unconscious inside the absurdist web. Their pockets yield a small prism-shaped key, pulsing faintly with enchantment. We realize that this could be a key to the secured fortress in front of us. Fortunately, our suspicion turns out to be correct and the doors open without further ado.
Behind the door, we find a death symbol, which Gabriel takes care of. Beyond the symbol lies an inconspicuous stone well a hidden passage cleverly disguised as part of the wall. The doorway smells faintly of ozone - evidence of magical traps recently triggered. We follow the trail. Door after door, trap after trap, pressure plates, glyphs, and deadfall mechanisms.
Eventually the maze spills us into an armory stacked with spears, swords, and crates of ammunition. Adjacent lies a forge chamber where four exhausted blacksmiths hammer at half-finished weaponry under magical coercion. A quick glance at them reveals that those are not Danorans, but most likely colonials from Risur, Crisillyir, Drakr, and Ber. The moment they see us, panic flashes in their eyes.
“Wait!” Auryn calls to them, as she raises both hands. “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to free you.”
The Drakran smith sputters, “Free…? From who? The winged tyrant? The fanged elf? Or whichever devil’s turn it is today?”
Gabriel steps forward. “All of them. Follow us.”
Their relief is fragile, but they understand that we might be their best chance yet. We guide them through two secured secret doors towards a safe zone in between the maze of hidden doors.
“Stay here,” Gabriel tells them gently. “It should be as safe as it gets down here.”
We move further down the passage behind the armory and find a gigantic acidic blob. It burns, spits, and thrashes, but coordinated precision and a few strategic explosions reduce it to an inert steaming sludge. We navigate more traps and hidden doors, eventually reaching the prison wing. The cells are cold, recently used, and filled with the stale dread of suffering. Chains lie broken on the floor, telling uss that people must have been imprisoned here not too long ago. We desperately search for living Deva prisoners, but only find a very hopeless looking man who appears to be one of Price-Hill's servants.
“Are… are you here to take me to the altar?”, he says with fear, his voice barely a whisper.
Gabriel kneels down to cast a healing spell on the man. “No. We’re here because your Lord Inspector would never leave you. He told us what happened.”
Recognition softens the man’s trembling. “My Lord… he stayed? Even after…”
Auryn nods, explaining with a gentle voice: “He blames himself for what happened to you. But you survived. And we’re ending this nightmare.”
The man slowly regains a spark of hope, giving him enough strength to speak more clearly.
“They took the others. One by one. A slender elf with fangs… he came for them. And there was… a devil. Elegant, like he dressed for court.”
Gabriel’s expression darkens. “We’ll find them both.”
We escort the man to the hiding blacksmiths, promise him safety, and venture deeper into the fortress. The deeper we go, the busier the corridors become. More Feladrin, armed, disciplined, and fanatical stand guard. We ambush one patrol, then another. Fortunately, they don't offer much resistance as we them down with a mixture of fey magic and quick, decisive strikes.
Then we burst into a barracks, where yet another group is stationed. This time, they are being led by a captain who appears to be made from a different kind of metal: A towering Feladrin, armor gilded, eyes burning with radiant fanaticism.
“You trespass in the domain of King Vardanis!”, he bellows.
Gabriel answers with a royal determination of his own, grasping his kukris, ready to strike. “And you better make way for King Gabriel of Risur. Move, or fall. Your choice.”
The captain lunges. He is fast, brutal, and drenched in unnatural vigor. But once again our coordinated discipline triumphs. Auryn’s blade flickers like quicksilver, Asrabey’s and Betronga's strikes land with righteous, primal fury, and Gabriel’s divine grace overwhelms the captain’s radiant arrogance. As the room falls silent, we use the time to catch our breath.
Then we hear a sudden, horrified scream. It comes from one of the central corridors. Hoping to come to the aid of one of the Deva, we rush down the hallway into a magically illuminated chamber.
And the scene freezes us in our tracks.
A pale Eladrin vampire sinks its fangs into the throat of a Danoran soldier, blood spilling down its chin. The victim’s eyes glaze as life ebbs away. Beside the vampire stands a man in grey robes who looks like he has fused with a dark, winged angel. Another creature, bigger, brutish, with curling horns and scorched armor flexes its claws in another corner. And on a throne at the far end of the room sits a third figure: An Eladrin whose flesh has half-melted into infernal corruption. Eyes burning like coals. Wings etched in ash.
We enter the ritual room and see a sunken basin carved from pure malachite. It pulses with a sickly, shifting radiance. The liquid inside is thick, dark, and swirling with currents that glow faintly gold. It appears that a lot of Deva blood has already been sacrificed to this fountain of power. The edges of the basin are covered in glowing draconic runes and in the corner, chained by enchanted manacles, lies a blue dragon. Its wings are bound, its snout muzzled with runes of suppression. It appears that they did not expect us to interrupt their congregation, but now that we are here, all eyes are on us.
(Aaand this is where the session ends. What a cliffhanger for a really intense chapter. )
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